There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.
~ Jane Austen
All due respect, Ms. Austen would've never written this had she seen Imprō Theatre lampoon her innovative oeuvre. Not that this is a raunchy Comedy Central roast or screwball Wayans movie. The ingenious Imprō company has nothing but respect for their source material. What they create anew night-after-night is a tasteful, cultured, theatrical marvel; a hilarious ad-libbed homage sure to leave you awe-inspired and sore from laughter.
At lights up, the cast of seven, clad in charming period costumes (by Sandra Burns), stands along the apron. They welcome the audience and reiterate Imprō's mission: for 90 minutes (give or take) they will improvise an entire play, set in the universe of and using the character archetypes made famous by Ms. Austen. (No joke!) And before tonight the seven magnificent players, rotated in from a line up of 19, have no idea which characters they'll be, or what obstacles they'll encounter. Even the lighting cues and sound effects are improv-ed, by cast members through upstage mics and by Lissette Jean-Marie and Eliot Hochberg in the booth. The cast asks the audience for a trivial topic to kick start the characters' conversation. "Mice!" someone shouts. And thus the ridiculousness ensues.
[Again, no need for a spoiler alert. Can't ruin the jokes since every night of the two dozen or so remaining performances will differ from what follows.]
We begin with two sisters (Kari Coleman and Kelly Holden Bashar). Unmarried, of course, and dying to be so, as they are about a week away from being forever condemned to live as hermit spinsters, turn of the 19th century landed gentry speak for crazy old cat ladies. Per the audience's request, they scream and jump atop furniture as Mr. Johnson (Brian Lohmann), the last eligible, not-quite-desirable bachelor in the world shoos the vermin away. Johnson then makes several references to the Plague and scurries out just after the awkwardness becomes stifling.
Cue the perpetually frazzled, widow mother (Tracy Burns). "How many times have I told you to get married? Every day, every day, every single day I say it!" And of course they have to wed in chronological order; thus the elder Cassandra (Coleman) "resigns herself" to a life of misery as the future Mrs. Johnson. Luckily, word reaches them that Mr. Johnson is in fact secretly married — just as Mr. James (Stephen Kearin), the never heretofore seen hunk-next-door, appears while looking for Pillsbury, his cat. Guess which sister instantly falls in love with him? Trick question. Both.
Enter the two overly pious characters, the new vicar (Paul Rogan) and his sister (Jo McGinley), here only to point out everything sinful. "God sees the good stuff, so no point in addressing that as well." Without fail, the one inevitable situation that needs to be addressed is how — in the name of all that is holy — the sisters dared have a completely innocent, unchaperoned conversation with Mr. James. Not surprisingly, though no less funny, the play ends with dual (simultaneous) wedding proposals. The answers are yes and yes, and they all live happily forevermore.
With no text to follow, how do the actors know when it's their turn to speak? They don't, yet somehow they still make relevant, plot-building conversations happen. Though not without a few interrupted lines, which end up being some of the funniest mistakes of all. "No, no, I carried on much longer than I should have," Kearin says after Bashar speaks over him for a moment, "I thought I was done making my point. Apparently I was not." Bashar uses this as cue for one of the several sobbing exits to which the women are prone. Upon her return, Bashar apologizes, "I'm sorry, sometimes I think pauses are longer than they actually are. It might be the acoustics of the room"; and immediately the cast goes on a five minute, gut-busting tear about how sound travels strangely in the space.
That's what's most marvelous about Imprō. There's nothing slack about how they roll. They're a family of boundless artists, engaged, listening and challenging each other for the good of the heartfelt, one-of-a-kind, full-length play being created for you in real-time — the epitome of the you-had-to-be-there situation, 'cause anyone who wasn't, won't get any of the countless jokes you'll be enthusiastically retelling for weeks to come.
"Jane Austen Unscripted" continues at the Carrie Hamilton Theater, at the Pasadena Playhouse, until April 14, 2013. Get your tickets here or by calling 323-401-6162.
At lights up, the cast of seven, clad in charming period costumes (by Sandra Burns), stands along the apron. They welcome the audience and reiterate Imprō's mission: for 90 minutes (give or take) they will improvise an entire play, set in the universe of and using the character archetypes made famous by Ms. Austen. (No joke!) And before tonight the seven magnificent players, rotated in from a line up of 19, have no idea which characters they'll be, or what obstacles they'll encounter. Even the lighting cues and sound effects are improv-ed, by cast members through upstage mics and by Lissette Jean-Marie and Eliot Hochberg in the booth. The cast asks the audience for a trivial topic to kick start the characters' conversation. "Mice!" someone shouts. And thus the ridiculousness ensues.
[Again, no need for a spoiler alert. Can't ruin the jokes since every night of the two dozen or so remaining performances will differ from what follows.]
Cue the perpetually frazzled, widow mother (Tracy Burns). "How many times have I told you to get married? Every day, every day, every single day I say it!" And of course they have to wed in chronological order; thus the elder Cassandra (Coleman) "resigns herself" to a life of misery as the future Mrs. Johnson. Luckily, word reaches them that Mr. Johnson is in fact secretly married — just as Mr. James (Stephen Kearin), the never heretofore seen hunk-next-door, appears while looking for Pillsbury, his cat. Guess which sister instantly falls in love with him? Trick question. Both.
Enter the two overly pious characters, the new vicar (Paul Rogan) and his sister (Jo McGinley), here only to point out everything sinful. "God sees the good stuff, so no point in addressing that as well." Without fail, the one inevitable situation that needs to be addressed is how — in the name of all that is holy — the sisters dared have a completely innocent, unchaperoned conversation with Mr. James. Not surprisingly, though no less funny, the play ends with dual (simultaneous) wedding proposals. The answers are yes and yes, and they all live happily forevermore.
An artist cannot do anything slovenly.
~ Jane Austen
That's what's most marvelous about Imprō. There's nothing slack about how they roll. They're a family of boundless artists, engaged, listening and challenging each other for the good of the heartfelt, one-of-a-kind, full-length play being created for you in real-time — the epitome of the you-had-to-be-there situation, 'cause anyone who wasn't, won't get any of the countless jokes you'll be enthusiastically retelling for weeks to come.
"Jane Austen Unscripted" continues at the Carrie Hamilton Theater, at the Pasadena Playhouse, until April 14, 2013. Get your tickets here or by calling 323-401-6162.
LA theater reviews by LA Theater Critic.
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